


Wish Upon a Green Star

by Iniora_Nackatori



Series: Home Series [3]
Category: Cyborg 009, GaoGaiGar
Genre: AU Crossover, Gen, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 14:45:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10119380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iniora_Nackatori/pseuds/Iniora_Nackatori
Summary: When 001 sends out a desperate distress call, a mecha lion answers.  00 Number Cyborg Soldiers, meet the Gutsy Galaxy Guard.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So... Yeah, no, the sappy nut it me cannot allow the ending of Cyborg 009 to stand. Crossover with an AU of GaoGaiGar. Expect insanity, because I only know the bare bones of Cyborg 009. I also know these guys are in _dire need_ of hugs!
> 
> Timeline for Cyborg 009 is getting jumped up about six years to match the AU of Three G. Also, I am taking **drastic** liberties with Episode 48 of the 2001 anime. Rather than 001 making the call he did, the team got separated from 009, and 001 yanked them all out of danger, except 009 who was out of reach. Plus, they left their fatherly squishy to hold the fort rather than drag him into the full brunt of danger.
> 
> Brought to you by this line: "What else do I have? I have _courage!_ " If that's not a Three G rallying cry, I don't know what is.
> 
> Disclaimer: Standard and usual. Don't own nothin' but the plot.

“ _So, where would you like to fall?”_

No. _No_. Watching through 003's eyes, 001 saw Jet and Joe fall to Earth as shooting stars. He could see their burning pieces spread across land and sea. Could see how their bravery sputtered and died, extinguished by their deaths. 001 could see and could feel how their demise would impact them all, like his mother's cries had impacted him...

And for a moment – just a moment – 001 was Ivan Whisky once again. Just a baby who could not understand the world around him, much less impact it. Just a baby who could see his big brothers dying but could not understand _why_. Just a baby who could only scream.

_**Someone. Someone, please! Help us! HELP US!!** _

Red and green danced behind 001's eyes. The Christmas glitter caused time to slow down to a barely present crawl. In a way the sensation reminded 001 of 009 in Acceleration Mode.

_**Who are you?** _

001 took a desperate gamble.

 _ **There isn't time! Please! My friends – my family – my big brothers are in the upper atmosphere! Coordinates –**_ 001 ripped the coordinates from 003; he would apologies for his lack of gentleness _later_. Assuming there even was a later... _**Please! Please! They're going to burn up and die! Please, if you can, please help us!**_

The green light illuminated so brightly 001 thought he might go blind. But it was the red light that twinkled, that sparkled, that _burned_ hotter than the atmospheric friction threatening to kill 002 and 009.

Time returned to normal as 003 gasped, “I hear a lion!”

 

* * *

  

The main computer shifted from stand-by to active mode. Power surged through systems as the J-Jewel Generator fired on all cylinders at maximum output. Engines ignited in a wave of acceleration which would have flattened the ship's occupants if not for artificial gravity compensating.

Soldato-J was awoken from sleep mode under the force of the acceleration. Triggering his armor to Equip as he leapt from bed he raced down the hallway to the command deck. There were three people who could command his ship: Himself, Renais, and Arma. He had not ordered departure. Renais was not on board, though that did not eliminate her as a suspect. Those mecha who called her their “older sister” could very well have contacted his ship's computer if Renais were in need of dire assistance.

Reaching the command deck, Soldato-J jerked to a halt. Training clamped down on the reflexive fear. The Z-Master had been obliterated by Latio's power. The Zonder threat was no more. Arma could have entered Purification Mode for any number of reasons.

Galeon blasting past the starboard windows suggested one of those reasons was _not_ a reaction to a nightmare.

“Launch ES Missiles.”

“Roger.”

Jumping to his post, Soldato-J checked the ES Missile's coordinates. These coordinates were... Over the European continent? Near exact opposite of Three G Orbit Base's location. Had some force acted on the far side of the Earth, where Three G's sensors could not readily detect it?

As ES Space unfolded upon kilometers of space junk, Soldato-J realized – yes. Some force _had_ acted where Three G could not detect it.

“J.”

Shifting his attention from the debris, Soldao-J looked towards Arma. He was pointing at a spot just off the J-Ark's bow. It looked as though space debris was falling into Earth's atmosphere. However... However, as the J-Ark's sensors narrowed on the spot, Soldato-J could plainly see it was _not_ space debris. It looked as though they were a pair of humanoids?

Galeon roared.

“Catch them!” Arma ordered.

There was sufficient panic in Arma's voice, Soldato-J did not ask questions. A moment to calculate angle of trajectory, affect of Earth's gravity well, estimated composition – ES Missiles would not work effectively and there was not time for the J-Ark or Galeon to make it before the unknown persons were reduced to less than ash.

“ _Fusion!_ ”

The J-Der blasted from the J-Ark at maximum acceleration. Even then, the friction of Earth's atmosphere was already wreaking havoc on the unknown persons. Their flesh was burnt down to –

They were _cyborgs_!

 

* * *

 

_**We have them. They are badly damaged.** _

“Some kind of robot grabbed them!” 003 reported. “It – Its at the wrong angle! It'll get burned up in the atmosphere, too!”

_**Your friend –** _

_**My big brother is stronger than you think. He will be fine. Where are you? Where can he take your big brothers for repairs?** _

The _Dolphin_ surfaced underneath them. Inside, 001 could feel Dr. Gilmore aboard.

_**Dr. Gilmore, please prepare the medical bay. 002 and 009 have received significant damage.** _

_Yes, of course!_

001 lingered for a fraction within Dr. Gilmore's determination. And then... Then, he did something that might cost them all their lives. He reached out to the glittering red light.

 _**Ask him to take my big brothers right** _ **here** **_._ **

“The robot is changing direction. Its heading right for us!”

 

* * *

 

Six persons were standing atop a ship of unknown design. Five of their number were making their way inside the vessel; one of them carried a basket of some type. The remaining person stood watching as the J-Der descended towards them. At a cursory glance, the ship was flight capable; from how it was sitting in the water, it was clear it could also function as a submersible. It was visibly missing critical components to make it space capable.

“Arma. This is the location?”

Arma nodded. He was still in Purification Mode, which was disconcerting. Additional enemy action or an overabundance of caution?

“The person who called me is at the limit of their power.” Arma floated upwards towards the secondary access. “J-Der. I will carry them the rest of the way. There isn't an entrance big enough to fit your hand.”

“Is that wise, Arma?” The J-Ark's main computer inquired.

“It is not the Enemy's style to use ploys such as these,” Arma countered.

True. But these were unknowns. The J-Ark was entering atmosphere. In another two minutes, it would match J-Der's location. However, in another two minutes, Arma may be in significant danger. It was an unnecessary risk...

Halting above the unknown vessel, J-Der kept his occupied hand at chest height. Arma exited; using his telekinetic powers, he levitated the damaged cyborgs the remaining distance. Though the J-Der was not designed for such actions – yes. That was the wisest course.

“TOMORO.”

“Remote command of J-Der systems established,” TOMORO-0117 confirmed.

Triggering Fusion Out, Soldato-J exited the J-Der Fusion cockpit, then further exited the J-Der using the secondary access. If Arma was concerned by his actions as Soldato-J landed at guard position by Arma's side, Arma did not show it.

“002! 009!” The woman who had remained standing on the ship's hull halted her rush towards the injured cyborgs. Turning on her heel, she headed towards a relatively small access hatch. “Bring them this way! Quickly, please!”

Arma floated after the woman. Using his powers, he was able to get the two injured cyborgs through the access hatch. Soldato-J followed silent behind Arma, taking mental notes on the interior of the ship. From the amount of technology visible, it appeared the vessel was on par with a Three G Orbit Base ship. Not in the same class as the _Amaterasu II_ ; however, it appeared to have a similar function.

“Oh dear.”

Older human, non-enhanced. Medical or engineering based on his sterile garb. Then again, for a cyborg, there was little difference.

“Please, put 002 here. Looks like he took the worst of it.” The man indicated the cyborg with partially burnt off elongated nose and lengthy red hair, and then gestured to a table already bristling with manipulators. “009 is not in as bad a shape; put him in the auto chamber.”

The human indicated a dais on the floor whose protective covering sprang up as soon as the manipulators and oxygen mask had been secured to the second cyborg. Soldato-J gave this “auto chamber” a speculative glance. It was more primitive than even the cyborg maintenance systems employed by Three G.

“003, get me the iodine solution. 005, help me with his chest armor. The friction fused it tight.”

“Yes, doctor.” The hulking dark skinned man sporting tribal tattoos walked over towards the cyborg on the table.

Eight in total if the two injured were included, Soldat-J cataloged them. All of them wearing the same red uniform and yellow pilot's scarf. None of them looked overtly enhanced, but from the way the uninjured members moved Soldat-J could deduce they were all cyborgs. Two were working with the doctor – 003 and 005 had been their designations? Two unknowns were monitoring the so-called “auto chamber”. One was an average height bald cyborg; the other was a short, plump black haired cyborg. The remaining two cyborgs were watching Soldato-J and Arma closely.

The one with dark black skin coloration – African, if Soldato-J recalled human geographical origins correctly – appeared to be a medium level threat. One of his hands was on the weapon at his hip. Otherwise, he looked unconcerned. It was the cyborg with short silver hair and silver eyes that Soldato-J categorized as the more immediate threat due to his lack of visible weaponry. A warrior's tension echoed from him. No. A _guardian's_ tension. At a moment's notice he was ready to move and place himself between his allies and harm.

Not a BioNet trait.

Which was as reassuring as it was disconcerting. These were complete unknowns. Further, Arma had not exited Purification Mode.

The basket Soldato-J had seen these cyborgs carry inside lifted under Arma's power. The cyborgs not engaged in saving the life of their fellow all tensed as Arma directed the basket to float closer. Close enough for both Arma and Soldato-J to see –

“A baby?” J blurted, not able to stop himself.

Arma was likewise wide-eyed. “You are the one who called for us?” Arma demanded.

_**Yes. I'm sorry, but I'm at my limit. I'll have to thank you both... later...** _

The psychic voice went silent as the baby slumped in the basket.

“Not to sound ungrateful or anything... But would you mind putting 001 down?” asked the black haired cyborg. He even went so far as to make a hand gesture of lowering the basket.

Arma directed the basket, baby and all, over to the black haired cyborg. He chirped, “Why thank you!” when Arma lowered the basket into his grip.

Arma exited Purification Mode. Soldato-J minutely tensed. Too many unknown factors were at play.

“I am Arma,” Arma addressed the room at large. “This is my older brother, Soldato-J. Tell me: Who are you?”

“Well~!” the bald cyborg began to speak.

He was silenced when the silver haired cyborg stepped forward. “You can call me 004. My apologies, but even though you rescued our friends, I'm afraid we can't trust you out of hand. Black Ghost has too many allies for us to trust lightly.”

“Black... Ghost...?” Arma's eyes flicked to Soldato-J.

As his Library returned a search result, Soldato-J scowled. “Black Ghost. A black market weapons specialist in direct competition with BioNet.” Ignoring the cyborgs' various confused looks, Soldato-J informed Arma, “Chasseur has been attempting to gain further information on Black Ghost's activities for some time. Their apparent specialization is weapons technology rather than bio terrorism. Previous files indicate some aptitude for cyborg modifications.”

“ _Some_ aptitude?!” the African cyborg sputtered.

“Whatever data you've got is out of date,” the bald cyborg quipped.

“Irregardless,” Soldato-J continued, looking now at the cyborgs, “Black Ghost is classified as an Enemy.”

“As much as I'd like to believe the enemy of my enemy is a friend, I know the truth behind that saying: Its a _cautionary tale_ , not a literal one.” The silver haired 004 crossed his arms over his chest. “I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you both to leave. Now.”

“Hum.” Soldato-J smirked.

The blond woman who had escorted them in stepped away from the doctor's work. “Unknown ship, five hundred meters above. Its opening missile bays! Primary target – !”

“This ship's primary flight systems,” Soldato-J confirmed. The cyborgs expressed various degrees of shock. Soldato-J crossed his arms over his chest, noting, “Do not believe for a moment I will allow Arma to be placed in danger.”

“Stalemate,” the African cyborg cursed.

“Worse,” 004 countered. His eyes narrowed as he glared at Soldato-J. “Checkmate.”

“Precisely so,” Soldato-J acknowledged. “However.” Soldato-J made a show of snapping his fingers. It was a rather Renais-like intimidation tactic, in its own way.

“You... powered down its weapons system...?” The blond woman asked, blinking as she looked at him.

Soldato-J nodded. “There is no need for such action.” _And if there is, none of you will survive,_ his glare assured them.

“So. Stalemate,” 004 stated.

There was a shocked scream – electrical burn, moderate – and the older human backed away from the injured cyborg.

“Professor!” 004 turned to face the now injured man.

“I'm fine! I'm fine,” the older human stated. Even from this distance, Soldato-J knew he was lying. “We need to get back to the island base as quickly as possible. I need the specialized tools we have there.”

“Is it a matter of tools, or parts?” Arma inquired.

The human mechanic/doctor stated, “I'm afraid its both.”

Arma looked at him. The look was not a command; more a question. _Do we take this risk?_

“Do you have his blueprints?” Soldato-J inquired.

Blinks from the cyborgs. From the human, a startled, “Well, yes, I do keep them on file just in case.”

“The J-Ark has an automated maintenance unit. So long as the blueprints are available, it will have all the parts and tools needed to complete his repairs. In exchange,” Soldato-J continued while the cyborgs and their human ally were gaping at him, “you will agree to come quietly for questioning. As – material witnesses. As I stated, Chasseur has been actively inquiring into Black Ghost and its activities. What information you have is... valuable.”

Arma gave Soldato-J a look. “You want to give your girlfriend a present.”

“That as well,” Soldato-J did not deny.

“...you have a girlfriend?” the black haired cyborg sputtered.

“I don't think we have much of a choice, if we wish to save 002's life,” the human stated.

The group of cyborgs simultaneously tensed and relaxed. A battle reaction: A plan of action had been made, and they were prepared as a group to execute it. Soldato-J filed the reaction away for further observation.

The ship rocked as a heavy wave brushed against it.

“That would be the J-Ark,” Soldato-J stated. He looked towards the group.

“002 is stable for the moment,” the human stated. He walked over to a console. Depressing a few buttons with his bleeding hands caused a small diskette to pop out. “His condition will deteriorate as soon as he leaves the table.”

Arma activated Purification Mode and collected both disk and damaged cyborg with his power.

 _You'll remain aboard?_ Arma inquired. Without pausing he stated, _Of course. How else will you assure their cooperation?_

“I'll go with him,” the largest cyborg stated. Paused at Soldato-J's look. “Unless you have a problem with that.”

Soldato-J did not move to block his path as the largest cyborg followed Arma. The black haired cyborg moved to stand next to the human; he set the basket with the baby down and pulled out a first aid kit.

“005 and 002 are now aboard that ship,” the woman cyborg stated. “I... I can't see through its hull.”

“The J-Ark's Regenerating Armor is not penetrable by any means of surveillance on the Blue Planet.” And, yes, Soldato-J acknowledged the fact he was boasting somewhat. “Nor can its hull be breached by any of your primitive ordinance.”

“Quite a boast,” the bald cyborg noted.

The woman cyborg was giving Soldato-J a searching look. Her eyes scanned him from head to foot. “You're... a cyborg.” Her hand twitched towards her weapon. “But you're not human. Are you.”

“Not human – ouch!” The human moved to yank his injured hands free of the black haired cyborg's grip. “006, that's quite enough.”

“Ha! Burns like these, professor, there isn't such a thing as _enough_.” The black haired cyborg turned towards him. “He really should be seen by a medical professional, you know. I don't suppose you'd let us head back to some place where there's a doctor about?”

“Is your ship capable of space travel?”

“Yes, well, in theory the _Dolphin_ could handle space – 006, stop that!”

“ _J. The unknown cyborg is now in maintenance. Estimated damage to critical systems: Sixty percent. Its power source is not derived from a G-Stone or J-Jewel._ ”

Soldato-J acknowledged TOMORO-0117's transmission across their private line with an equivalent of tapping his transceiver. The act sent a meaningless burst of sound back to TOMORO-0117. The act of transmitting was a message in and of itself.

“ _The ship you are aboard is small enough to fit in the primary hold if it discharged its ballast tanks and retracted its flight gear._ ”

“Theories can be tested at a later time.” As 004 appeared to be in charge, more or less, Soldato-J turned to him. “Your ship can fit in the J-Ark's main hold if you empty its ballast tanks and retract its wings. From there, the J-Ark can transport all of you to secure Three G medical facilities.”

“Three... G...?”

Interesting. “You are unaware of the Gutsy Galaxy Guard?”

The bald cyborg asked, “Who are they? Some fancy acting troupe?”

Soldato-J stared at them.

“Not an acting troupe, I take it,” the African cyborg quipped.

Soldato-J considered multiple responses, and dismissed them all as having stemmed from too many hours spent in close proximity to Shishioh Guy. Instead he took a steadying breath. “Please,” Soldato-J prided himself on the fact he did not growl, “retract this craft's wings fully and prepare to empty its ballasts.”

The cyborgs and the human all exchanged looks with one another. It was 004 who summed up their situation. “I guess we don't have a choice.”

 

* * *

 

“ _So, where do you want to fall?_ ”

Jet had not been sure what to expect when he had botched Joe's rescue. The fires of Hell seemed likely; he'd never been a God-fearing soul. The friction of Earth's atmosphere had burned like hellfire. At least until it had eaten through his synthetic flesh to the unfeeling metal underneath. Then it had felt...

Well, it had felt like nothing at all. In those quite moments as he'd been burned away, Jet had looked down at the blue, blue world, and thought, _What a beautiful sky..._

For whatever reason, Jet could not open his eyes. Or if he could, he couldn't see anything around him. A black void swallowed him. There was no starlight, no Earth – though in the “good thing” category, there was no Black Ghost death battle station ready to start World War III. In a moment of temporary insanity – or maybe continued insanity, given Jet had known full well he didn't have enough energy to get both himself and Joe to safety _before_ heading after 009 – Jet allowed himself to wonder if Black Ghost would ever get the hint. Sure, war was profitable.

But peace would always stand in its way.

_Interesting._

Jet blinked – or tried to. The darkness around him didn't so much as ripple.

_Please remain calm, Cyborg 002 Jet Link. I am TOMORO-0117. I am the AI supercomputer of the spaceship J-Ark._

Jet tried to blink again. _Spaceship? Like, NASA spaceship?_

 _Alien spaceship. Technically_.

Jet got the impression the omnipresent voice was trying not to laugh at his reaction.

_The J-Ark was built on the Red Planet of the Trinary Star System. The Trinary Star System is located in another galaxy. It was destroyed by a hostile force known as the Zonders._

...oh. Great. Just what Earth needed: _More_ bad news.

_The Zonders were successfully neutralized by the Gutsy Galaxy Guard in the Battle of Jupiter._

_The who of the what now?_ Jet tried to ask.

 _The Gutsy Galaxy Guard. It is more commonly know as Three G. It was established by the United Nations for the express purpose of protecting the Earth in specific and the Milky Way Galaxy in general. Currently, operations are limited to the Sol system._ The speaker paused. _You are unaware of any of this?_

Thinking back to the past year – had it just been a year? Fighting Black Ghost and all its machinations made the single year feel closer to four. And forget about trying to wrap his head around it having been over sixty years since Black Ghost had nabbed him!

A building tension washed over Jet; the sensation was near palpable. _You were kidnapped by this Black Ghost organization and forcibly turned into a cyborg._

When Jet managed a tentative affirmative, the voice of TOMORO-0117 was almost a growl.

 _You are currently linked to the J-Ark's repair systems through the automated maintenance center. Your repairs are twenty percent complete. Your allies are unharmed. Status of Cyborg 009 is stable. The_ Dolphin _and its crew are within the J-Ark's hold. The J-Ark will be arriving at Three G Orbit Base in three minutes nineteen seconds on the mark. Mark._

 _Its... ah... very kind of you to let me know...?_ Jet replied.

A noncommittal hum. _Please elaborate on your time with Black Ghost. All information you can provide will be beneficial to the investigation and elimination of this Enemy._

Jet couldn't stop a snorted demand of, _What, are you a cop, too?_

_Negative. However, Three G is partnered with several global police forces such as Interpol and Chasseur._

Oh. Crap. If that were true, in about ten seconds they were going to find his record with the NYPD. And about ten seconds after that, track down Joe's record – and never mind Black Ghost had orchestrated the whole thing. Cops wouldn't care even if there was evidence to the contrary.

 _Your testimony is evidence enough,_ TOMORO-0117 stated. Just to prove Jet was indeed insane, he believed him when TOMORO-0117 informed him, _The warrant for Shimamura Joe has been canceled effective on the mark. Mark._

Jet blinked – and this time, he felt his eyelid twitch. _You can... You can really do that? Just up and cancel a warrant?_

_I cannot. I am in contact with those who can, however, and they have agreed to cancel the warrant. Chaseur has unilateral right to override another country's warrant in the event the subject is connected as a victim of or person of interest to BioNet or similar terrorist organization. Cyborg 009 Shimamura Joe is both, and Black Ghost is identical to BioNet in its goals._

_What's... What's BioNet?_

_I believe the phrase is, “A long story.”_

_Pal, I'm pretty sure this entire **experience** qualifies as a long story!_ Jet made a mental note to let G.B. take him out drinking later. Assuming he wasn't actually dead and this was real and all.

 _This is real._ TOMORO-0117's presence, for lack of a better term, wavered for a moment. _Docking procedures are complete. Your allies, excluding Cyborg 009 and Cyborg 003, are disembarking the_ Dolphin _. Dr. Issac Gilmore will be taken to medical for treatment of second and third degree electrical burns on his hands._

If he could have, Jet would have cursed out loud vehemently and at length. _The doc was trying to repair me and burned his hands, didn't he?_

_Correct._

Jet figured there weren't curses enough to express his frustration. Wanting to punch something came close. Damn it... Dr. Gilmore was getting too damn old for messes like these!

Except... Except Dr. Gilmore didn't have a choice, did he? It wasn't like they could hire on someone to be his assistant. Jet wouldn't wish having Black Ghost breathing down their neck on anyone – except Black Ghost, naturally; they deserved it. Living in constant awareness that one small slip up would lead to an assassin's bullet in your heart... Or cybernetic heart, as the case may be.

 _You need additional support,_ TOMORO-0117 noted.

Well, help would be nice, yeah. Maybe with backup they would have been able to locate Black Ghost's death machine a little faster. And help would have come in _real_ handy with the whole Mythos Gods incident. There were too many tragedies for Jet to name where if he'd just been a little faster, a little smarter, a little _better;_ if the team had been given a little _help_ , good people would still be alive.

 _Mutual assistance may be arranged._ Before Jet could dwell on that comment, TOMORO-0117 was stating, _Your repairs are now forty five percent complete. You are no loner in critical condition You will be required to exit the automated maintenance system once your repairs are sixty percent complete._

Huh. Nice. ...hey – _Wait a minute! You said not two minutes ago my repairs were at twenty percent!_

_Correction: Five minutes ago, your repairs were at twenty percent._

Jet ogled in the direction the voice seemed loudest in. _The hell kind of repair system is this?_

_At its height, the Trinary Star System was light years ahead of the Blue Planet. Admittedly, your cybernetic design is... unique. However, it is below average when compared to a Soldato._

_A... what now?_

Something that felt a lot like laughter bubbled against Jet's consciousness. _Your repairs are now at sixty percent. Your automated repair system can handle the remaining damage without further assistance. You are now exiting the automated maintenance system._

There was a hiss of what sounded like steam as Jet's eyes snapped open. He wanted to yell, “Hey wait!” as he bolted upright, but the words caught in his throat. The surge of adrenaline that had let him sit up failed him, and Jet found his balance faltering. Any second now and he'd fall over.

Arms big as tiny tree trunks wrapped around his torso and a meaty chest was a lumpy pillow for his head. Looking up, Jet couldn't help but smile. “Hey, 005.”

“Hey yourself,” Geronimo Jr groused. One of his ham sized hands reached up and clocked Jet upside the head. “That's for scaring 003.”

Rubbing the lump, Jet offered a weak laugh of apology.

“You alright to stand?” Geronimo half asked, half demanded.

“Feels like it,” Jet affirmed.

Geronimo lifted him up, out of some kind of depression or off a table, then gently set Jet on his feet. He waited until they were both certain Jet was steady.

“Thanks.” Jet tapped his feet; gave a two second test fire of his flight systems.

“Please refrain from using your propulsion system inside the J-Ark.”

Jet nearly jumped out of his skin. “TOMORO-0117!”

“I did state you were not dreaming, Cyborg 002 Jet Link.”

Looking around the room turned up nothing concrete; no speakers or cameras or anything. The room itself was pretty bare bones, all things considered. There was the table/dais thing Jet had been sitting on. A couple of computers were set into the wall, their readouts in a fancy flowing script that was illegible to Jet. The room itself was pristine, glistening in an off white color. Almost reminded Jet of the color of an ostrich eggshell.

“You know him?” Geronimo asked quietly.

“Sort of? He's the ship's AI. Kind of talkative. At least, he was when I was in there,” Jet gestured with his thumb towards the whatever it was he'd just come out of.

“They said it was an automated maintenance unit. I didn't see any manipulators or anything similar while you were inside.” Geronimo gently flicked Jet's nose. “But you were fixed up anyway.”

Jet blinked. Looking at the computers, for lack of anything else to look at, Jet asked, “What, you didn't brag to my buddy here about being a super advanced alien spaceship?”

“There was no need as the superiority of the Red Planet's technology was self evident.”

Jet exchanged a look with Geronimo. Synthesized or not, there was no mistaking the voice as smug.

Geronimo did a double-take. “Did you just say _alien_ spaceship?”

“It was an... interesting conversation, let's just say that,” Jet hedged. Looking back at the computers, Jet asked, “Hey, TOMORO-0117, you said the _Dolphin_ was aboard you, right?”

“Correction: The _Dolphin_ is aboard the J-Ark. While I am the controlling AI, the J-Ark is not my body.”

Kind of a fine distinction but, whatever. “Can you direct 005 and me to it? I'm worried about my friend, 009.”

The room's door slid open. “Take a right turn upon exiting the maintenance room,” TOMORO-0117 instructed.

Following the instructions of a disembodied voice was a little odd even for Jet. After maybe three, maybe five minutes, Jet and Geronimo walked into a spacious hold – of course, it didn't look all that spacious, given the _Dolphin_ was squeezed in tight enough it looked like it would take a crowbar and twenty tons of grease to get it back out again.

Francoise opened the main hatch before Jet and Geronimo were even halfway to the door.

“002! Are... Are you sure you should even be on your feet?” Francoise demanded.

Jumping up to the main hatch, Jet stumbled for a moment. “No aerobatics for a week, I think, but I'm alright otherwise,” he promised. As Geronimo jumped up to join them, he asked, “How's 009?”

“He won't be out of maintenance for another nine hours,” Francoise told him – only _after_ she'd shut the door, Jet noted.

“Wait, seriously?! How bad --”

The slap came out of no where, even though Jet knew he should have expected something like it.

“Don't either of you ever _dare_ do anything like that _ever again!_ ” Francoise ordered.

Rubbing his sore cheek, Jet found a spot on the floor worth his full attention. “Yes ma'am,” he mumbled.

“What was that?” Francoise demanded.

And never mind she'd heard exactly what he'd said. Jet snapped to attention and shouted, “Yes ma'am!”

Francoise nodded. When she headed towards medical, Jet followed along like a good little boy. “Technically,” she was saying as she walked, “you shouldn't be up for another twelve hours.”

“Don't tell that to the J-Ark's AI. He's already got a big enough ego, I think.”

Francoise turned to look at Geronimo. The larger cyborg nodded. “The AI introduced himself after he released 002 from the thing he called a maintenance chamber,” Geronimo confirmed. “He said his name is TOMORO-0117. He also said... he was an alien from someplace called the Red Planet.”

“He wasn't talking about Mars,” Jet pointed out. “He mentioned something about the Tri--”

Time stopped, almost as if his Accelerator had been triggered. In the automated system was... Joe. Floating limp as a rag doll. Arms and legs all detached. Breathing steady, but only because of the respirator. Bits of his synthetic skin were were _gone_ – worse than gone. Blistered and pealing and for the first time Jet heard himself utter a prayer to God.

“Fuck,” Jet hissed.

“You were worse,” Francoise stated bluntly. “We had to hand over your blueprints to the alien; to Soldato-J. He also required that Dr. Gilmore be taken into custody aboard a space station. I got a glimpse of it earlier when I went with the others for a little bit. We... We really are in space.”

Oh. Oh _damn_. If they had to surrender his blueprints _and_ Dr. Gilmore... That meant they'd have to hand over 009's blueprints as well in order to use the maintenance system that had repaired Jet. And they couldn't – they _couldn't_ just hand over the blueprints to an actual Accelerator. The prototype's blueprints running the risk of falling into the wrong hands was dangerous enough. Yet... And yet...

There was a dedicated frequency in his internal radio Jet did not remember having before. Three guesses what – or, he should say, _who –_ it linked to.

Jet activated his radio and tuned to the channel before Francoise or Geronimo could stop him.

“TOMORO-0117. What's your price for fixing my friend?”

“Jet!”

Francoise quieted when Jet raised his hand in a silent request. Geronimo glared at him, but otherwise did not move.

“ _Inquiry: Why would there be a price?_ ”

“Huh?” Jet blinked. Looking over at Francoise, it was kind of comforting she was just as confused as Jet was. “But you demanded my blueprints, right? And Dr. Gilmore's incarceration!”

“ _Only to enact effective repairs. Further, the requirement of Dr. Gilmore being brought aboard Three G Orbit Base was to insure he received proper medical care. An agent of Chassure is interviewing your allies and Dr. Gilmore. Once the questioning is concluded and Dr. Gilmore is released by the medical staff, it is my captain's intention to return you and your vessel to the Atlantic Ocean. From there, your friends and yourself would be free to travel on your on recognizance._ ”

Jet and Francoise exchanged shocked looks.

“We're nine _battle cyborgs_ and you'd just let us go? Just like that?” Jet demanded.

“ _Your specs are unique. However, that is all: Unique. It would be inadvisable to attempt to gain further information by force when there are superior technologies already available._ ”

“Superior technologies?!” Francoise gaped.

“Told you he had an ego,” Jet stated, not able to keep a grin out of his voice.

“ _Correction: It is a statement of fact, not egotism._ ”

“Oh, excuse me, TOMORO-0117,” Jet quipped.

“ _Sarcasm noted._ ”

That startled a giggle out of Francoise. Geronimo looked at them both, question clear in his expression.

“Give us ten minutes to get 009 into a state fit to transport, and we'll be right over,” Jet stated. A, “ _Roger_ ,” was the last transmission from TOMORO-0117 before the signal was closed.

“You think we can trust them with 009?” Geronimo asked.

“I don't see why we can't. They've already got the Accelerator blueprint, after all,” Jet pointed out.

Francoise opinion was clear: She was already at a control station pulling down a copy of Joe's blueprints. From there she'd be moving to switch the automated system to manual and get Joe's limbs back where they should be.

 

* * *

 

Leaning against the railing above and across from the cafeteria, Renais Cardiff Shishioh could not keep a smirk from playing across her lips. Her boyfriend brought her the most fascinating gifts. It certainly made their relationship... interesting. And truth be told, Renais much preferred gifts like these over a dozen frilly roses. Roses would catch fire if she held them.

Intelligence... Intelligence would let her set the Enemy ablaze in a hail of ordinance.

Smiling at the delight of having such a wonderful boyfriend, Renais observed the motley group below. They were something of a twitchy bunch, that much was for sure. They had picked the smallest circular table they could get away with, which was itself set at the farthest edge of the cafeteria. The unmodified older human was near the railing and pinned between the African cyborg and the silver haired cyborg. The short, plump Chinese cyborg was running an exuberant two man dialogue with the bald cyborg over the cafeteria's selection of foodstuff. Apparently, no one had pointed out the special orders counter.

Even if they had, it wouldn't have mattered much. The Chinese cyborg and the bald one were acting as distractions. The African cyborg and the silver haired one were making constant sweeps of their surroundings for any possible threat – to the _human_ member of the team, Renais noticed. Some, but not quite as much, of their attention was on the baby sleeping soundly in a basket. All four of them had been just as twitchy while their unmodified compatriot had been receiving medical attention.

J drifted next to Renais with all the noise of a falcon diving for prey.

“Bonjour.” Renais didn't quite keep a giggle from her voice.

Nodding, J settled in to join her watch.

“The most informative conversation they've had yet was the merits of dim sum versus Swedish meatballs.” Renais leaned back, lifting her arms up above her head to stretch the stiffness out of her spine. J's eyes sparkled in matching mirth as Renais quipped, “You'd think they don't trust us.”

“You received TOMORO's preliminary report?” J inquired. Needlessly so; he'd know if she hadn't. Still, it was good for him to practice human manners.

“I find it hard to believe they have no knowledge of Three G.” Renais crossed her arms so as to tap her left index finger against her G-Stone. “However, it does lend some credibility to their story.”

J stepped close enough to touch. “Oh?”

“When mother and I went underground to hide from BioNet, global news was the last thing on our minds. Living from one moment to the next. That was all the attention we could spare.”

Gentle as if skittish – and Renais knew he was, her clueless Soldato from another world – J slipped his arm under her cold coat to rest against her waist. The physical contact soothed her more than the chill of her cold coat ever could.

Hum? Movement on the cafeteria level. Four people, all above human normal weight; one of them was above even average cyborg weight. Shifting her attention to the sound, Renais saw four more of the red uniformed cyborgs walking towards the cafeteria. The one with a lengthy nose and bushy red hair, and the one of Asian decent with mousy brown hair, were being shepherded by a olive skinned giant writ small. The giant was walking squarely between the two with clear intent to haul either or both off their feet if they were to stagger. The fourth individual was an average sized blond woman.

Huh. From J's description, that must have been 003. Either she had some way to tie herself into their ship's sensors remotely or –

“Hello there,” Renais said quietly.

003's eyes snapped to her without error.

“Impressive hearing, Miss. 003.” Renais slipped closer to J, allowing herself to smile – well, without quite _as_ many teeth as her grin might have otherwise had.

“009! 002!” The old human got to his feet, ignoring or oblivious to the pain in his hands. And there _would_ be pain in his hands, with the way he slammed them on the table like that. “What are you _doing?!_ Neither one of you are in any condition to --”

“Dr. Gilmore.”

The old Dr. Gilmore went silent as he caught sight of 003's expression.

“Doctor,” 003 continued with a touch less force in her voice, “we're under observation.”

“We noticed, 003.” The silver haired cyborg turned around in his seat to look right at Renais. “The red head must be the mysterious girlfriend Arma mentioned. She's been watching us since we came on board.” A curious raised eyebrow. “Kind of wonder how we qualify as presents.”

“So that's Soldato-J, huh?” The red haired cyborg took the seat offered to him by the Chinese cyborg, even as his fellow likewise took a seat offered by the bald cyborg. With a brashness that bordered on stupidity, the cyborg lifted his right hand up high and waved before yelling, “Hey! Soldato-J! TOMORO-0117 's got an ego bigger than a watermelon!”

J rocked back slightly, blinking under his helmet.

Various Three G staff paused in their rounds. Some looked at J. Others – and Renais recognized them as the ones who had survived the trip back from the Trinary Star System – covered snickers. One dunce managed to let a guffaw escape before he shuffled into an otherwise empty room.

The African cyborg burred his face in one hand before groaning, “002!”

“What? Its true.” The brash 002 elbowed his fellow injured cyborg. “Come on, 009, back me up here!”

“002 does have a bit of a point,” this Mr. 009 admitted, blushing in a way a schoolgirl might find cute. “The J-Ark's AI computer did brag a bit about how advanced he and the J-Ark's systems are.”

“A bit? Try spent a whole five minutes running down a catalog of our specs! Oh, get this, doc.” 002 leaned forward as if to impart a dire secret, save his grin was more on the shit-eater side than conspiratorial. “You know how the Accelerator works, right? Apparently, that big lug of a ship has an Accelerator that can cross fifteen kilometers in one fifteenth of a second!”

“Its not like the Battle of Jupiter's specifics are classified, J,” Renais gently teased J. J didn't quite growl as he released a tense breath.

“That's not possible!” Dr. Gilmore protested, sinking back down into his seat. The African cyborg had one eye on the old man as he moved, and was himself ready to move at the first sign the elder was having any difficulty whatsoever. “Then again,” Dr. Gilmore did a visual inspection of 002 and 009, “its not possible for either of you to be on your feet, given the damage you sustained. Even if you'd been in critical repairs for the whole – has it been three hours now?”

“Give or take,” the bald cyborg confirmed.

Dr. Gilmore shook his head, dazed. “Its not possible with Earth's current level of technology. Its just... not physically possible.”

“So you mean...” 009 looked up towards J and Renais, blinking owlishly. “You mean they really are aliens?”

“Guess so,” the silver haired cyborg mused.

“Wicked...!” 009 gleefully hissed, eyes lighting up at the thought of an _adventure_. And for a minute, just a minute, Renais could picture the kid in a high school uniform – and being no more dangerous than the next manga nerd shuffling in-between the sales wracks at a used book shop. His next round of questions did not dispel the image: “When'd they come to Earth? Why'd they come to Earth? Are there any other aliens? Can we meet them?”

The growl of 009's empty stomach cut his questions short.

“Sounds like you need to meet lunch first,” the bald cyborg joked.

“Best idea I've heard yet,” 002 joked. “Hey, you know this place does requests? There's supposed to be a special order counter kind of in the corner.” He turned back towards the kitchen area of the cafeteria, looking for the counter in question.

“Oh, who told you that? This TOMORO-0117 fellow?” the Chinese cyborg asked.

“TOMORO-0117 did a lot of talking, in between his boasting,” the largest of the cyborgs noted.

Renais exchanged a look with J. Since when was TOMORO-0117 ever _chatty_ , of all things?

“I think...” As his allies all focused on him, 009 quietly admitted, “I think he was talking so much to help... to help keep me from panicking.” Looking down at his hands to keep from looking at the concerned faces of his friends, 009 whispered, “It was... very dark, inside the maintenance chamber. Kind of scary, too. For a minute I thought Black Ghost had recaptured us. That... That we'd... that I'd... failed.”

After a tense moment, the Chinese cyborg _humph_ ed, “That? Sounds like an empty stomach talking. Come on, 007. Let's go see if we can find this special orders counter or whatever. Or better yet the entrance to the kitchen!”

“Somehow, I don't think they're going to let you use their kitchen, 006,” the bald cyborg noted with a laugh. He paused long enough to ruffle 009's hair.

“Mobile Unit,” Renais mused.

J hummed, wordlessly agreeing with her assessment: There were significant similarities.

“Hey, if they've got cheeseburgers, make mine a half pounder with extra large fries and a chocolate shake!” 002 demanded.

“Don't you have enough grease in you, 002?” the largest cyborg joked. “You should eat healthy more often.”

“If by healthy you mean rabbit food? No thanks, 005,” 002 joked.

The joke was sufficient to lift the tension on the group as a whole and scatter the looming cloud of depression from 009.

“So, this tomorrow fellow tell you anything else?” the silver haired cyborg asked.

“Nothing too important,” 009 shook his head negative. “He said you'd been hurt, Dr. Gilmore, and that you shouldn't be using your hands to do much for the next week or so. He also mentioned you were all interviewed by agents for some Interpol offshoot called Chaser?”

“Chasseur.” 003 gave the division's name its proper French flair. “Its supposed to be a global police task force dedicated to stopping organizations like Black Ghost.”

“Heck of an organization if they didn't even know about Black Ghost!” the African cyborg quipped.

“We've been a _bit_ busy with BioNet,” Renais pointed out.

003 looked at Renais to acknowledge her point. “That's something we'd like to hear more about. This BioNet agency. From what minimal information TOMORO-0117 provided us, it sounds to me like it may be a Black Ghost offshoot.”

“Oh. Great. Another Black Ghost.” The silver haired cyborg sounded dryly amused; as if he would start screaming if he didn't keep smiling.

“They canceled the warrant.”

Interesting. From the various shocked gasps and startled looks, 009 did not need to elaborate further on _what_ warrant. That lack of need spoke to a deep trust between them which in turn reinforced Renais's theory that they were a tight-knit battle hardened team. That level of trust between so many members did not come easily – unless there was significant shared trauma. Such as being kidnapped and forcibly converted into cyborgs.

But then, Renais could have been projecting.

“They _what_?” the African cyborg hissed.

“Did they confirm it in writing?” Dr. Gilmore demanded.

“Not yet. I... I need to talk to the head Chase – I mean, _Chasseur_ ,” 009 made an effort to pronounce it correctly, “detective to get a written copy of the order canceling the warrant. TOMORO-0117 said they're aboard this base.”

“And of course he didn't say where to find this head detective,” the silver cyborg guessed.

“I don't think he'd have to.” The largest cyborg turned to look at Renais. “In fact,” his eyes narrowed in deep suspicion, “I think the head detective has been watching us this whole time.”

The cyborgs and their human all turned to look at Renais and J. Renais reached into her cold coat's inner left breast pocket and withdrew a folded piece of paper. Deliberately, she flicked it in a cheeky salute.

“Presents for his girlfriend, indeed,” Dr. Gilmore mused, a little wide eyed.

Renais returned the paper to her coat pocket. Then paused, considering. Really, it wouldn't be that much of gesture, but it might build sufficient trust for the cyborgs to quit eyeing Orbit Base in general like a load of primed C4. Withdrawing the printout of the warrant cancellation notice again, Renais handed it over to J with a smile.

Nodding, J took the simple printout – and jumped over the railing in a single smooth vault that was flashy only by being done so easily.

The cyborgs tensed when J landed roughly three meters from them. Those who were seated, excluding the injured two, rose to their feet slowly. J ignored them, instead walking at a deliberate pace to 009. Without a word J held out the printout.

Hand shaking faintly, 009 took the paper. Opened it. Stared at it as though the words printed upon it were in Red Planet Standard.

“...thank you...” he managed at length.

J nodded once. Then without a word walked away, then flew away, returning to stand at Renais's side.

“009.”

At Dr. Gilmore's quiet voice, 009 looked towards the old human. The man held out on bandaged hand in a wordless request. The paper shook as 009 handed it over. The old human pulled out a pair of reading glasses – _because of course he had reading glasses_ , Renais quipped to herself – and proceeded to review the document. He hummed, much like papa faced with an outlier during a critical experiment. At length he folded the paper back in half and returned it to 009.

Voice as solemn as a tomb, Dr. Gilmore stated, “It appears to be official.”

Their expressions ranged from 002's knowing nod to the African cyborg's pure disbelief.

“But...” The African cyborg looked at Renais. “But _why_?!” It wasn't a shout; it came close. “You don't know us! For all you know, we could be lying! We could be a threat!”

Renais knew that look. Knew it as if she were staring into a mirror reflecting her past. The look of someone who had been fighting alone, without backup, without _hope_ , for far too long. Days or years, it didn't matter. Once all existence became one battle after another time ceased to be anything less than a molasses slog.

The fact they were all alive was proof they'd decided to hell with the odds, and done whatever it took to take their lives _back_.

Hum?

Renais turned at the faint tug on her attention. J had frozen still, and was looking out the windows into deep sp--

What the hell was Galeon doing right outside the window!?

The cyborgs had turned to look as well. Their expressions were as dumbfounded as Renais's.

“That, is a big cat,” 002 quipped. 005 made a quite note affirmative.

Childish happy laughter echoed from further down on the cafeteria level. Ringing out in time with a child's tennis shoes a familiar voice called out, “Galeon!” The mecha lion turned to look in the direction of the giggled shout. The fact the shout was impossible to hear from deep space was irrelevant. “Which way which way!” Galeon turned back towards the cyborgs. Its green eyes glittered in a soundless intensity Renais could feel her G-Stone echo.

Galeon. Happy childish giggles. Renais should have seen him coming from a kilometer away.

 _Nobody_ could see Amami Mamoru coming until it was too late. The kid was just that damn good at gleefully terrorizing hapless innocent bystanders. ...for a given definition of _innocent_.

Running full tilt into the cafeteria, the green eyed boy with physics defying brown hair bounced to a skidding stop. Eyes wide and mouth forming a silent, “Oh!” of excitement, Mamoru turned on one heel back the way he'd come.

“Mama! Papa! This way, this way! Galeon says they're over here!”

“Coming! Coming!” a mid-forty something Japanese breathed heavily. The man in question leaned against the railing, more to take a breather than to look at Galeon. The wispy woman who accompanied him likewise paused to say a dainty, “Hello again, Mr. North Pole Lion,” before turning to tell Mamoru to, “Mamoru-chan! You know better than to run in the halls, sweety.”

“But ma~ma~!” Mamoru whined, hitting _just_ the right eleven year old pitch to be both childish and deeply, _deeply_ annoying. “Their ship's on the J-Ark and all ready to go! They might leave soon if we don't hurry!”

“If they're in the cafeteria, they won't be going anywhere until after lunch,” Mrs. Amami calmly informed her adopted son. She paused with a startled, “Oh!” as she caught sight of the group of cyborgs.

The subsonic rumble from Galeon rattled Renais's hearing, and 003 flinched. Couldn't blame her: Gaoleon being heard inside without shattering Orbit Base's windows should have been impossible. Someone had forgotten to explain that to Galeon.

Mamoru broke out the heavy artillery for his opening salvo: A ten thousand wattage devil-may-care grin. He tugged gleefully on the sleeve of Mrs. Amami's day dress and pointed at the cyborgs. “Mama, papa, that's them, that's them!”

The cyborgs and their human blinked. They looked at one another and blinked again.

Mamoru skipped forward with a laughing bounce. The the silver cyborg and the African cyborg were visibly torn between going for their weapons or standing in bemused confusion. 003 was looking Mamoru over in the same kind of dazed, _wait, what just happened?_ state Renais remembered experiencing once Mamoru and she had been properly introduced post Sol Master fiasco. How anyone could be so bubbly was just – gah. 002, 005, and 009 all exchanged looks that shouted, _Anybody know this crazy kid? No? What the hell?_

Mamoru stopped in bouncing distance from their table, and raised his hand in a wave. “Hi!”

“Ah... Hi?” 009 raised his hand in a matching wave.

“I'm Mamoru. Amami Mamoru! And you're,” he pointed at them all, “001's big brothers and big sister! Right?”

“...in a manner of speaking,” the silver haired cyborg replied.

“How do you know 001?” 003 inquired.

“Oh!” Mamoru tugged on the end of his poofy hair. “He called me and Kaidou-kun when his big brothers were falling. I called Galeon to try and help, but Kaidou-kun got to you first 'cause he was sleeping over at his big brother's spaceship. Its a good thing they did! I've been studying all about atmospheric friction in school. It would have been bad...” Mamoru's smile dimmed; scary thing was, his reaction was _not_ calculated in the least. “Galeon said the junk field you were falling from... That it used to be a weapons platform. That it could have cracked the Earth in _two_.”

Renais felt her eyes go wide; she could feel J's attention focus sharply on Mamoru's words. Galeon was a lot of things: Simple. Straightforward. Terrifying at any distance. _Stupid_ was not one of them. If Galeon was telling Mamoru the station had been that serious a threat... Damn it! How had Black Ghost built it right under Three G's nose?

“That's why I wanted to say,” Mamoru stepped forward and held out his hand, “thank you. You saved the whole world!”

More shocked stares from the cyborgs. By some mutual agreement, 009 was elected their spokesperson.

“It... It was our duty,” 009 stated, reaching out to take Mamoru's hand.

The flicker of green light through Mamoru's hair was not a trick of the base lights.

“You've been alone for a long time, huh?” Before the cyborgs could comment, Mamoru chirped, “I know! You should join Three G! Then you and your family wouldn't fight all alone and everyone could bash the bad guys together! Wouldn't that be great?”

The silence was deafening.

Their shocked exclamation, a little less so...

 

* * *

  

Francois sat at her station on the _Dolphin_. Looking beyond the familiar circuits, she watched as the J-Ark lifted up from the depths of the Atlantic Ocean. It rose, higher and higher still, until at last it was beyond the atmosphere and beyond her sight.

Soldato-J had been as good as his ship's word. As soon as the Chasseur Agent in Charge, Agent Renais Cardiff Shishioh, had declared them free to go, Soldato-J had taken them back more or less right where he and his ship had found them. Moreover, Soldato-J had used something called ES Space to deposit them at the _Dolphin_ 's maximum dive depth. This way, any remnant of Black Ghost would have no way to find them.

At least, not for a little while.

Francois looked down at the silver-gold pager clenched in her right fist. They had not agreed to join Three G. How could they? To have been swooped up by a whole organization of caring individuals... Of people who had not seen the weapons Black Ghost had tried to make them, but the people they had tried to make themselves.

The world was too cruel for it to have been real.

Jet and Joe were down in medical with Dr. Gilmore. Injured hands or no, Dr. Gilmore had insisted on looking them both over thoroughly. Francois was was certain as she could be Dr. Gilmore would find nothing out of place. In fact, if it hadn't been for the minimal damage TOMORO-0117 had _not_ mended, the two would have been in perfect condition.

“ _Chassure's mission objective has not changed. BioNet, and any organization tangentially related, are our targets. You are officially recognized as victims of Black Ghost. All that does is give you blank slates to start from._ ” Cardiff Shishioh's grin had been rueful as she joked, _“Even if some of those slates have sixty year old dust on them._ ” Her expression returned to being professional and serious as she handed over the item Francois now held. “ _This is a Three G pager. If you discover Black Ghost activity, you are requested to use this to contact Chassure. As you are all private citizens I must encourage you not to engage Black Ghost on your own._

“ _As someone who survived being forcibly turned into a cyborg, I hope you give them Hell._ ”

...yes. Yes, that was the most surreal part. Agent Cardiff Shishioh had arranged for them to be released. No bindings, no tracers (save for the pager), no threats overt or covert. Three G had insured the 00-Number Cyborgs had been allowed to leave as they had been allowed to come: With minimal fanfare.

And a galley full of food, medical supplies, spare parts, and –

Francois buried her head in her hands and tried not to cry. It was too much. It was simply too much! Three G didn't know a thing about them, and yet on the suggestion of a child – on the suggestion of a _giant metal lion!_ – Three G had called them heroes and given them all the provisions they needed for the next month.

Geronimo Jr. gently rested his hand against Francois back.

“I don't believe it either,” he quietly admitted.

Pyunma leaned back in the pilot's chair. “I'm glad we declined their offer. It was too good to be true. Just like the offers Black Ghost makes.”

“I dunno,” Chang pipped up. “Backup could come in handy.”

“How could we even trust them?” Pynma pointed out.

Albert leaned forward to rest his hands on the captain's console. “That is an excellent question, 008. As soon as we hit the island, I'm hitting the books.”

“The books?” G.B. asked.

“Yeah. How else are we going to find out about this mysterious Three G if we don't look them up?” Albert quipped.

“Oh yay,” G.B. spun one finger through the air in a slow mimic of a whirligig noisemaker, “research. What fun.”

Finding her center, Francois decided research... Research was a good idea. She wanted to learn all she could about Agent Cardiff Shishioh. Francois wanted to know _why_.

Giving the pager a stiff squeeze, Francois tucked it into the small emergency pouch in her uniform, just in case... _Just_ in case.

 

* * *

 

 _Just in case_ came a week later.

Later, Francois would look back and groan. Their greatest war machine to date having been blasted to ten billion bits was not enough to stop Black Ghost's ambitions. Nor had the death of the Black Ghost been enough to slow the organization's juggernaut of an industrial war complex.

It had started out as any of their missions usually did: Intercept a Black Ghost transmission, follow it to its source, find the weapons, and destroy them all.

Unlike their usual twists, they had not found scientists coerced into working for Black Ghost or battle mad commanders acting like Saturday morning cartoon villains. Instead they had found a mad scientist calmly commanding a base full of heavily armed grunts to complete building a weapon whose size rivaled 0013.

The infiltration team of 004, 007, 009, and herself had gotten there five minutes too late to stop it from launching.

Now it was an active dogfight in the sky. While 004, 007, and 009 held off the attacking security robots, 003 did her best to keep the _Dolphin_ apprised of possible weak points. The difficult part was two fold: The first was that she could hear Dr. Gilmore's heartbeat doing a rapid patter that wasn't good for a man of any age. The second was that the weapon appeared not to have any weak points.

It was when 002 launched out of the torpedo tube that 003 made her decision.

The pager was exactly where she'd left it. The instructions were engraved firmly in her memory.

_S.O.S._

Oh no it had – _“002! Descend! Descend now!_ ”

003 winced in sympathy. A full power cut to his rockets had to leave 002 hurting desperately. But it had worked: The heat seeking missile went right past the plummeting 002 and straight for the larger, more intense heat signature of the _Dolphin_. 008 launched the countermeasures –

Too late, 003 saw the missile's _other_ attribute: It split into dozens upon dozens of smaller missiles, each carrying a significant explosive ordinance. And all of them heat seeking.

008 was an exceptional pilot. It showed when he managed to dodge the first fifteen of the fifty missiles heading for the _Dolphin_.

003 heard 008, 006, and 005 scream across her radio and across her senses as the missiles impacted. Dr. Gilmore grunted but was otherwise soundless, holding tight to 001 less their still sleeping smallest member go bouncing out of his basket from the turbulence.

“Oh no!” 009 shouted.

004 was running the trajectory in tandem with 003. He knew as soon as she did that, “No, no, _no_ , the angle's all wrong...!”

Velocity, vector, what she saw 008 trying to do, what the crippled _Dolphin_ was able to do –

They were going to be smeared all over the landscape in fifteen seconds. Ten. 003 clung to the Three G pager and prayed for a miracle. Five seconds. A miracle she knew would never come because the world was too cruel. Two seconds. One.

A hole opened up in space and time.

002 zipped past the hole, and past the _Dolphin_ falling into the hole, just in time to yelp. The J-Der flew through the opposite side of the hole, catching the _Dolphin_ before it could cross the event horizon. It carried the _Dolphin_ up away from the hole, narrowly missing 002 by a fraction of a meter. Behind it, missiles flew out, up, and around, providing a barrage of covering fire as the J-Ark's main body rose up behind the J-Der. And right behind that covering fire was the Galeon.

Even as she breathed in relief that the _Dolphin_ would not become less than spare parts, that everyone on board would not become smears of red decorating the landscape, 003 tensed in terror. There were fires breaking out all over the ship. The blazes were too numerous and extreme for the fire suppression systems to handle.

“ _Hey, set us down! We need to abandon ship!_ ” 008 ordered. He was already on his feet to check on Dr. Gilmore and 001.

002 flew up more or less in the J-Der's face. “ _Hey, big guy!_ ”

“I heard.”

How strange. The J-Der's voice sounded just like Soldato-J's. There was no echo or reverberation of speaker systems. There had to be speaker systems, didn't there?

The Black Ghost weapon attempted to shoot the J-Der down. Before 003 could warn them or 002 could protest, J-Der had shifted the _Dolphin_ to rest pinned under one arm, had scooped 002 out of the air, and was moving under the J-Ark's main bulk. J-Ark proper was likewise moving to put itself between the J-Der and the Black Ghost weapon. More missiles streamed out of the J-Ark to counter the missiles shot by the Black Ghost weapon. The Galeon roared, employing a subsonic weapon of some type. From this distance it caused 003's ears to tingle. Anything closer –

The missiles exploding well before target was evidence enough of the roar's power.

The J-Der released 002, set the _Dolphin_ down, before jumping back up into the sky to engage the Black Ghost weapon directly.

003 tore her senses from it. There were more important things to worry about!

“I can fly just fine thanks!” 002 shouted, shaking his fist at the J-Der's back.

“002!”

002 triggered his Accelerator. It wasn't as powerful as 009's, but it was able to let him cover the distance between where the J-Der had set him and the emergency hatch 005 had blown open. Great billowing clouds of smoke poured out of the hatch and out of the holes cut into the _Dolphin_. Funny, how in the heat of the moment, the first thing 003's mind latched on to was not the status of the ship overall. It was the status of 006's kitchen. The ruined kitchen; totally and utterly demolished beyond repair.

More missiles caught her attention. These ones were not from the Black Ghost war machine – which had now split into two identical halves so as to better deal with the J-Der and J-Ark – but rather from the Black Ghost infantry division. They had taken advantage of the cover the war machine provided to advance with two tank divisions and the remaining army's worth of robot soldiers.

004 launched his right knee rocket at the first salvo of six missiles. 004's rocket hit the salvo's lead missile which triggered a chain reaction sufficient to knock the rest out of the air The second salvo –

The second salvo was blocked when the Galeon crouched over the dying _Dolphin_. The mechanical lion managed to stay on its feet, though it did rock somewhat under the weapons fire.

A man with flowing brown hair wearing golden armor over a deep green bodysuit landed on his feet in an impact absorbing crouch next to 005. And right behind him, rolling with the impact to get back on her feet, was Renais Cardiff Shishioh. That she had a missile launcher armed and ready was a surreal addition to the very fact she was _there_. They were _here_.

Maybe the world still had miracles in it.

“Bonjour,” Renais Cardiff Shishioh grinned cheekily.

“Galeon!” the man ordered, rising to his feet to look towards the mecha lion.

The Galeon roared. Not a weapon this time, but an acknowledgment of a command. The great metal beast hunkered down on its paws with clear intent to guard the _Dolphin_.

006 cleared the door with an, “Alley-oop!” Once 006 was clear, 005 reached back down into the smokey depths to pull 008 up by his scarf. 008 was in turn holding onto Dr. Gilmore, who had a death grip on 001.

“We got the engines shut down, so unless the fire gets into the fuel lines there shouldn't be a risk of explosion,” 006 reported.

“Let's not wait to find out if it does!” 007 voted.

Cardiff Shishioh smoothly turned with unconcerned grace, targeted the launcher so casually slung over her shoulder, and fired it. The missile landed a direct hit in the heart of the advancing robot soldiers. “I presume you have a plan?” she asked, tossing the spent launcher aside. Her eyes were shining in glee. “Outside of the obvious of don't die.”

“First thing's first: We need to get Dr. Gilmore and 001 out of the line of fire,” 004 ordered.

“Galeon can take them to the J-Ark,” the man in golden armor offered. Stepping forward, he offered his hand. “Shishioh Guy. Evolunder. A type of super cyborg,” he clarified at their blinks.

“Gotcha,” 009 nodded. Stepping forward, 009 was saying, “I don't know how you got here so fast, or how you knew we were in trouble, but thanks.” He took Shishioh Guy's hand.

Shishioh Guy glowed green.

It was a fraction of a second. Nothing that would have otherwise registered, given the firelight of the burning _Dolphin_ and the chaos of battle all around them. But when the glow ended and both 009 and Shishioh Guy were down on their knees screaming in agony, every last detail etched into 003's heart as she tried to piece it together. Where had the danger she'd missed been hiding?

“Guy!” Cardiff Shishioh shouted. The green hexagonal stone in her right gauntlet sparked when her reaching hand got within a half meter of the duo. Yelping, she took a step back.

_**009! Trigger your Accelerator!** _

003 looked at where 001 was tucked into Dr. Gilmore's arms. One eye was glowing brightly; she could see the effort waking up early was taking. Questioning what was going on would have to wait. At the moment 003 had heard the faint click that was 009 triggering his Accelerator the duo's screams had quieted. Slowly, for being in Acceleration Mode, 009 leaned his head forward. Shishioh Guy matched the movement so that their heads were resting against one another.

003 snapped to look in the same direction Cardiff Shishioh had turned. “Incoming!” Cardiff Shishioh warned, 003 adding, “Vector puts it right _here_!”

“On it!” 004 acknowledged, kneeling down to open his left knee.

“Knee missiles?” Cardiff Shishioh hissed.

004's countermeasure shot down what would have otherwise been a lucky shot.

What happened next happened too fast for 003 to process it at the time.

Under the cover of the earlier assault, the one the Galeon had blocked, a group of infantry robots had flanked their position. From there they had moved steadily using the sound of exploding missiles and the cyborg's distraction with their ship as cover. Their advance had further been covered by the tank divisions pounding shells around the Galeon. Once the infantry had gotten close enough to rush them, the “lucky shot” 004 had shot down had been fired.

As soon as the first infantry robots had crested the side of the _Dolphin_ , 009 and Shishioh Guy had moved. Shishioh Guy grabbed 009's ray gun from its holster. 009 grabbed a glowing green knife from its holster on Shishioh Guy's left forearm.

The blast from 009's ray gun and the blade of Shishioh Guy's knife both impacted their targets at roughly the same time. Both robot infantry went down in showers of sparking seizing internals.

 _ **Are you both alright?**_ 001 asked.

Shishioh Guy lowered the borrowed ray gun. “I'm sorry, Shimamura.”

009 lowered his borrowed knife. “Its alright, Guy. You didn't know your Evolunder powers could effect a cyborg like that.”

 _ **I rather think he did,**_ 001 mused. _**Except, on a G-Stone cyborg or a J-Jewel cyborg, I suspect the “Hello” effect acts as intended: A hello, how are you, I've got your back. Since we don't have G-Stones or J-Jewels, the effect –**_

“He hacked my brain.”

009 stated the words as though they were not as terrifying an implication as they were.

 _**If you want to be blunt about it, 009, you both hacked** _ **each other's** **_brains. So I ask again: Are you both alright?_ **

“I can still fight,” 009 stated.

“Ah.” Shishioh Guy did a familiar flourish with 009's ray gun as he took aim at another robot solider. “Your team can punch my lights out after everyone gets out of this alive.”

“Not until after I get an explanation!” Cardiff Shishioh commanded. “And it better be a damn good one, or I'm punching you out _first_!”

The fight afterwards settled into a strange numb blur. Strange, only because it was so familiar. With 001 awake, there was no need to rush 001 and Dr. Gilmore up to the J-Ark. Even if 001 had not been awake the shear volume of ordinance – both missiles and laser based weaponry – being thrown around between the Black Ghost weapon and the J-Ark proper was too dense to safely traverse even when taking into account the Galeon's power.

And so, they moved through the battlefield at Dr. Gilmore's pace. Shishioh Guy fit into their team as if he had always been there. Using 009's ray gun Shishioh Guy provided cover to whomever needed it. Stranger still, he looked to 003 first to insure he had correct coordinates for the robot controlled tanks before ordering the Galeon to go on the offensive. Adding to the strangeness, 009 was sticking close to Cardiff Shishioh, watching her flank the same way he would watch out for Dr. Gilmore or 003. Yet at the same time, he seemed to know what Cardiff Shishioh would do as if he'd been fighting with her as an ally for longer than the scant handful of minutes since the _Dolphin_ had crashed. 009 was always a step ahead of her, using 003's guidance to lead Cardiff Shishioh's shots into maximum target rich environments.

The sound of a bird of prey screeching heralded the battle's end.

“A firebird?” 003 wondered.

Impossibly, that was what it appeared to be: A bird made of fire shot outwards from the J-Ark's main body. It shattered the half of the Black Ghost weapon which had pinned the J-Der. Then, looping back on itself, it blasted through the weapon's remaining half before soaring back to the J-Ark. Both halves of the Black Ghost weapon sparked and died as they crashed into the ground.

The J-Der pinched its right index finger and thumb together to pluck a singed mad scientist from the very tip of the J-Ark. “You are under arrest,” the J-Der informed the mad scientist.

Renais Cardiff Shishioh pitched her voice to be heard over the dying whine of spent ordinance and crushed robot soldiers. “The whole lot of you are under arrest! Anyone trying to sneak off --”

One of the human soldiers lowered his weapon.

If it hadn't been for Shishioh Guy's quick trigger finger, the surrendering soldier would have been shot by the closest robot soldier.

The J-Der glared at his captive. “You have programmed your robots to terminate any human who surrenders.”

003's senses picked up the mad scientist's words of, “Any traitor to Black Ghost dies.” Just underneath the words was a ticking sound –

“He's a living bomb!” 003 tried to warn them.

The warning was a second too late as the bomb blasted --

The J-Der looked at the red soot mark marring his hand. With an expression equal parts aggravation, confusion, and dismay, the J-Der turned its attention to the remaining human soldiers.

If 003 had not seen 009 Accelerate before, she would have never known what happened. A blink and the J-Der was still in the air. A blink – and every robot solider that wasn't already broken to the point of its functions having been terminated was itself terminated.

“Do any of you likewise wish to die?” J-Der demanded. From the other side of the battlefield.

The human soldiers put their weapons down.

 

* * *

 

Guy leaned against Galeon's foreleg and watched as Major Hyuuma rounded up the still breathing Black Ghost grunts. There... weren't as many as there should have been.

Closing his eyes, Guy tried not to think too hard on the not-his memories bouncing around in the back of his mind. In many ways, Shimamura Joe was a lot like himself: Recklessly brave and equally as stubborn. But in many more ways...

In many more ways, Shimamura Joe was still a child.

_Ibaraki. Oyamada. Onodera. Helen. Vena. Aphro. Dinah. Daphine._

Others. So many others. The Father from the orphanage. The nameless doctors who had died helping the 00-Number Cyborgs escape in the first place. The Mythos Cyborgs. The Psychic Assassins. 0013.

Guy knew what combat fatigue looked like. Without Mikoto, without all of Three G backing him, he would have succumb to the stress during the Zonder Invasion. From the feel of it, Shimamura was leaning heavily on his team just to keep one foot in front of the other.

But they were alone. Just the ten of them against a global organization whose depths and breadth of reach and depravity was enough to shake Guy to his core. They were alone. They would always be alone, because their enemy was _just_ vicious enough to force it to be so.

...except. Except they _didn't have to be_.

“003. Can you hear me?”

Across an expanse of shattered metal and shattered lives, Francois Arnoul tilted her head ever so slightly in Galeon's direction.

“009 is going to have nightmares. Whatever he wakes up screaming about, it will _not_ be his imagination.” Guy focused on 003's bright red headband. “009 has my personal communication number. The pager Renais gave you routes direct to the J-Ark. Call. We'll come.” Guy put on the best smile he could. “Even if its just wanting to go out for a good beer.”

Before 003 could shake her head, Guy pressed on, “You are not alone anymore. Even if you and your family decide to never join Three G – even if Three G is _ordered_ not to assist you! – Renais, myself, and J _will_ back you!” Guy slumped against Galeon's foreleg. “Please. If nothing else, remember that. _You are not alone_.”

003 turned to look at him. From this distance, Guy could not tell if her lips were moving.

“She said they'd think about it.”

Looking to his right, Guy saw Renais walk slowly up to him. Without further preamble, she leaned against Galeon's unoccupied foreleg.

“J's shaken up.” Renais pushed her hands into her cold coat pockets. Looking absently over at the 00-Number Cyborgs taking an accounting of their battered ship, Renais mused, “He gets dying in the name of duty. Its the needlessly dying part that gets him.”

“It may not have been willing.”

Guy felt Renais's glare, but did not look towards her. The silence between the stretched onward.

After a time, Renais hummed. Reaching up she tapped her G-Stone against Galeon's foreleg. “Ne, Galeon. What do you think? Think we'll be getting some new recruits?”

Galeon looked down at the two humans standing beneath him. Calm suffused Guy as Galeon's eyes sparkled.

_They will do._

Feeling a little lighter, Guy watched as life marched on.


End file.
